


Good Afternoon

by ageless_aislynn



Series: Good Day [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, ReverseSnow, Snowells, Snowellsweek2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageless_aislynn/pseuds/ageless_aislynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin has a cookie problem, Eobard just wants to help. For <a href="http://supercavanatic.tumblr.com/post/145219540380/snowwells-week-2016-prompt-list">Snowells Week 2016</a>, Day 1, prompt: Cooking together, a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4232049">"Good Morning"</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, it might've taken me a little longer than I expected to return to this 'verse but hopefully better late than never, lol! ;) I do hope to also continue and finish the "day" out, preferably without it taking another year for the next part! O_O But I make no promises, life hasn't been particularly kind lately. :S Anyway, this is kicking off Snowells Week 2016 and I'll be back all through the week with new Snowells goodies!
> 
> If you read, I hope you enjoy! This also has a home at [LJ](http://signed-aislynn.livejournal.com/46459.html) and [Tumblr](http://ageless-aislynn.tumblr.com/post/146221342075/fic-good-afternoon-caitlinharrison-the). ;) ♥

"Good afternoon, Dr. Snow. I hope you-- _What_ is that smell?"

Caitlin scrubbed at the frustrated tears staining her cheeks, automatically turning away from the man in the yellow suit as he phased through her door. "It's certainly far from a good afternoon," she said, trying to sound normal.

In an instant -- she tried not to think of it as _a flash_ , he could sometimes be sensitive about things like that -- he was at her side.

"What happened?" he asked, his teasing tone gone serious.

"I burned my cookies," she said, sniffling loudly.

He looked her over as if briefly unsure if that was a euphemism of some sort. Even having lived in this time period for over 15 years, he still was a child of his own era in many ways when it came to language, particularly slang.

When it clicked, he blurred into motion, shedding the suit and mask in favor of a white t-shirt and jeans.

"Why are you crying over burned cookies?" He took her hands in his and inspected them, making doubly sure she really was unhurt, before pressing kisses to both.

"I'm a scientist. Baking is about precision. I should make _excellent_ cookies."

Her teary declaration earned her the lip twitch that meant _You're not making sense but don't worry, I'm still very fond of you._ "Can't you just, oh, I don't know, _buy_ cookies if you want them?"

"That's not the point." She pulled her hands free from his and stormed back into the kitchen.

There on the counter sat the tray of flat, blackened discs that, scientifically, should have been delicious, thick, gooey chocolate chip cookies. They continued to defiantly smolder from where she had just yanked them from the oven.

She glared at the appliance. "Maybe the temperature isn't calibrated correctly," she muttered, brightening at the notion.

Superspeeded motion blew her hair in her eyes and, when she could see again, the offending cookies had vanished and she was alone. She had enough time to open the window to try and air out the smell before he returned.

"There, all gone," he announced, dusting his palms together.

She turned a calculating look his way. "That took you too long to have just gone to the dumpster. You didn't run all the way to Star City and put my burned cookies on Oliver Queen's doorstep, did you?"

"You made me promise to stop leaving bags of flaming things on Oliver Queen's doorstep," he reminded her.

"That's _not_ an answer."

He gave her his best supremely innocent smile and changed the subject. "Why don't you and I make a batch of cookies together?"

"You want to bake cookies with me?" she asked skeptically and his grin was far more akin to a leer than anything else.

"Why not?" he said carelessly. "We're _both_ scientists, aren't we? I can only imagine the deliciousness our combined abilities can come up with."

 

Somehow, he ended up with flour in his dark hair like a distinguished stripe. Caitlin had nearly a fourth of the bag of chocolate chips poured down her shirt in an act she swore was deliberate and he didn't bother to dispute. He also whisked her shirt away in order "to help her clean up," which somehow involved a great deal of his face in her décolletage.

Cookies _did_ get made and somehow safely ensconced in the oven but, considering that they ended up making out like proverbial randy teenagers and neither of them remembered to set the timer, that batch _also_ burned.

But this time, Caitlin found she didn't mind. Store-bought cookies really didn't in any way disparaged her abilities as a scientist and the afternoon turned out to be quite good, after all.


End file.
